( Easy and moderate and slow, so very slow. Breathe. He must breathe with it. Channels his discipline and strength in righting his posture and welcoming the intrusion that cultivated bodies so often detest of another's energy.

It is his brother's, so close to his own that meridians are neatly fooled, readily accepting the transplant. Perhaps another reason to prefer Xichen in this.

Fixed, his arm wilts down, before he gives the arm a slow, careful swing to test it for any lingering hurts. None present. It lands, finally, drooping beside him — and this is new, he supposes, Wei Ying's and learned, a call for proximity and casual touch, when he reaches out and captures Xichen's hand in his own. )

How did you know during the Sunshot campaign?